


Down by the River

by anaraine



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, [crossover]
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 17:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1193739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaraine/pseuds/anaraine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not that it's a common thing for Dwalin to end private spars in an indulgence of flesh, but Buffy had been looking at him like <em>that</em> earlier that morning, and he should've expected her to find a way to get what she wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down by the River

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh. I had so much plotty set-up for this, but then I looked at the clock and it was thirty minutes till the Porn Battle ended, and I hadn't finished the porn. So the plot got completely axed, making this my first honest PWP. Someday, I will write an epic Buffy/Dwalin, because I got unhealthily invested in them this week, but that day is not this day.

Dwalin should have expected their spar to end like this. Not that it's a common thing for him to end private spars in an indulgence of flesh, but Buffy had been looking at him like _that_ earlier that morning, and he should've expected her to find a way to get what she wanted.

Not that he's displeased about it. Not at all.

Dwalin lies naked in the grass, Buffy atop his stomach and grinning with her victory. Their clothes are scattered along the riverbank, along with their weapons, though those are closer at hand, in the event they should be needed. (They are far enough away from the encampment that it is unlikely they will be interrupted, but that also means they are far more likely to be seen as prey to wandering scavengers, be they beast or person. Best not to take chances.)

The grass itches, pressed as it is against his sweaty skin, but it is soon forgotten as Buffy leans down to take his mouth in something that cannot be called a kiss. It's teeth and hunger and lust, and Dwalin gives as good as he gets, his hands sliding down her flanks to grasp her hips tightly, leaving finger shaped bruises on her skin. He holds her to him and _rolls_ , sending them closer to the river as they grapple.

He finds himself between the bracket of her thighs when she relents, her hair a golden halo about her head and her skin streaked with green. It is not a true victory, he feels, but he'll take it anyway, and slides a hand from her hip to her breast, rolling a nipple between his thick fingers as he rakes his teeth along her neck and shoulder. She fists a hand in the hair at the back of his neck as she squirms under his touch, pulling until he groans against her skin and rears back to look at her properly.

Buffy laughs with delight, eyes sparkling as she lifts her legs to plant her feet firmly on the ground. It gives her more than enough purchase to cant her hips and press up against his cock, leaving a smear of wet heat against his skin. She's nearly _dripping_ , her curls soaked through.

"Wench," he growls, and finds the bend of her knees to yank her closer.

"Am I?" she asks smugly, even as she fists his cock, thumbing the head and spreading the fluid gathered there. "Am I, really?"

His hips twitch in an aborted thrust, held back with all of the patience he can muster. As wet as she is, he knows that she is not truly ready for him - they simply don't do this enough for her to remain loose enough for his girth.

"Dwalin," she says, voice a breathy murmur, warm and inviting.

He slides a finger into her warmth, swiftly joined by another to help spread and stretch those lovely muscles contracting around him. Twisting his hand, he brings his thumb up part hair and rub against her clit, delighting in her shudder and the way she rakes her fingernails down his arms.

"Dwalin, _please_ ," and this time there is a dark impatience in her tone, a warning that she will take matters into her own hands if he doesn't do as she says.

With a groan, he pulls his fingers free and shuffles closer on his knees, pressing the head of his cock inside her with deliberate intent. Buffy is still too tight, her muscles grasping at him in quick, angry pulses, but the lavish sigh that falls from her mouth tells him that she doesn't mind.

"Lass," he says, a question he cannot voice when his control falters and he finds himself sinking in that last, exquisite inch.

" _Yes_ ," Buffy hisses permission, her hands clawing at the ground beneath them, and Dwalin stops thinking.

There is an ache burning deep within him as he bucks into her heat, a rough rhythm building between them as he presses sharp, little bites to her breasts. She digs her fingers into the nape of his neck in retaliation, her legs clamped tightly at his flanks as her whole body trembles. His hand feels too clumsy as he brings it between her legs, rubbing at her clit until she shrieks and pounds a fist against his shoulder.

The laugh it provokes is more groan than mirth, and Buffy narrows her eyes and _clenches_ , holding him in place while he chokes at the sharp pleasure. It's too much - he's gone, spilling within her warmth and panting harshly into her neck, barely able to keep his weight from crushing her.

He hasn't quite managed to catch his breath when she squirms beneath him, and Dwalin makes sure to grind tight little circles into her with his softening cock, even as he sucks open mouthed kisses to her nipples and returns his hand to her clit. It doesn't take much longer. Her back arches violently as she reaches her peak, voice wrecked and a red flush painting her skin.

They lie there together, sweat and other fluids drying in the sun, the heat of the moment giving way to a gentle fondness as Buffy cards her fingers through his hair, and Dwalin presses soft kisses to the red bites littering her skin. Soon enough, the itch of the grass becomes unbearable and they move to the river, cleaning up the evidence of their coupling as best the could.

Were Dwalin a younger dwarf, still learning the eddur of his ancestors and dreaming of what his future might hold, he is sure that he would have fallen in love with this lady, this Buffy of Summer. To be certain, that she was not a dwarf would've caused him to hesitate, but in time, he would've asked after her anyways, tried to court this woman of steel and sharp convictions.

But Dwalin is not a young dwarf. His life is no longer his own, and his future has been set. He is pledged to the line of Durin, to return his King to his rightful throne, or die trying. (And he will not seek her hand when it was all too likely that he would return to her as a corpse.)


End file.
